


Call of the Crow

by ItsClydeBitches



Category: Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: Animals, Dubious Consent, F/M, Ficlet, Horror, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-02-22
Packaged: 2018-05-18 22:20:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5945247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsClydeBitches/pseuds/ItsClydeBitches
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the challenge: "In verse Simcoe/Anna while he is with the Queen Rangers."</p><p>(Now with a brief follow-up!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Anna gasped and cold water rushed down her throat, leaving her bloated rather than choking. It lined the pit of her stomach, fed into her arms, weighted her legs so that she was dragged down, down, down. Anna opened her eyes and recognized the murky waters of Setauket, distinguishable by the bits of cabbage debris, wood flecks, old earth that brushed past her cheeks. When her feet touched bottom—shoes dragging, then slipping away completely, leaving her stocking-clad feet free to explore—Anna thought she felt another presence behind her. She made to turn, but before she could one single, equally bloated finger rested against her cheek. Tap, tap, tap, it went against her skin.

 

_Tap, tap, tap_.

 

Anna’s eyes flew open, her body arching towards the source of the sound.

 

It was a crow. Hardly visible in the dark, outlined only by the light of a waning moon. Anna peered blearily at it, now awake enough to be astounded when it cocked its head in turn. The crow flicked its beak against her windowpane impatiently. Tap, tap.

 

Anna pulled herself from her bed.

 

Her movements certainly felt dreamlike—walking barefoot across the carpeted floor, her nightgown doing little to protect her from the night air. Anna shivered, hooking both hands on opposite elbows, letting her toes drag and feeling vaguely as if she’d done this before.

 

Despite the temperature, Anna eased open the window. She crouched slightly as the crow continued to wait on her, its own shadowed feet digging into the wood. Anna pursed her lips at the odd little visitor.

 

“Hello,” she whispered.

 

It was the wrong thing to do… or perhaps the right thing, for the crow took flight with a startling cry, knocking Anna backwards. Its black body disappeared amongst the shadowed trees… but not before she saw it heading towards the docks.

 

Without hesitation Anna followed.

 

This wasn’t a decision of the lucid, the fully awake, but nor was it made entirely without agency, for Anna knew exactly what she was doing when she eased open her door, lifting it from the knob to keep it from squeaking. She felt the pull of her bed—the tiny voice in the back of her mind questioning this action—but the draw of adventure had always been too strong. Anna was a cat this night—fed on curiosity, hunting a bird.

 

She cast a look on Hewlett’s door as she passed. Though frowning, Anna did not stop.

 

Down the elegant staircase, past the dining room, out the heavy front door. She didn’t pause for a coat or even shoes. The wood of the judge’s porch left subtle splinters in her heels. Anna didn’t feel them. She stepped out into a light shower and titled her head to the sky, suddenly, vividly recalling a dream of drowning. She’d loved the feeling of water flooding her lungs.

 

A cry sounded through the night air—the cry of a crow. Anna’s head snapped up and she picked up the pace, hefting her nightgown and tearing down the steps, out across the fields. She raced through the dewy grass, picking up mud that splattered along her stomach and thighs. Anna passed the dying trees of an orchard, their uncollected fruit rotting on the ground. A bucket with a rusting rim caught her eye, as did the shadows of gravestones. All of it whispered to her. These obejcts appeared eerie this time of night. Eager.

 

Within minutes Anna had made it to the grove where the crow had disappeared. In the distance she could see the docks, the grey outline of the water as it pushed and pulled toward shore. Another cry sounded above her—the crow calling her forward—but Anna was enticed by the waves. She pushed through the rest of town and came to the pier, drenched, muddy, the parts of her nightgown not brown and tattered sticking to her frame.

 

There Anna found someone waiting in the moonlight.

 

Except... no. He waited in shadows, hidden from the moon beneath the branches of a tree, that crow sitting above him, its call growing in volume. Anna stepped to him with the blank stare of the resigned—or with the bliss of the drugged.

 

“You’re late tonight,” he told her. “Don’t let it happen again.”

 

Anna nodded, his voice a slow, soothing cadence. The man’s fingers were suddenly skimming her face, gentle, then wrenching her against him. She went willingly and let her mind fill with pictures she couldn’t actually see: red hair that had turned black in the darkness, pale skin that now looked sickly grey. His mouth was demanding and Anna reciprocated, quite unwilling to do anything else. She lay with him beneath the fir tree as the crow watched their every move. The sound of the waves was the only thing louder than their breathing.

 

Dawn was the signal to sneak away. Or back. She couldn’t quite tell which was which anymore. Where before there were two bodies, now there were three, the dark-skinned man appearing to reclaim his crow. He spoke to the bird, rewarding it for its work, and Anna was vaguely aware that he, like all around her, was two-fold. What was his name again? Something with a J? Or an A?

 

The red-haired man took back her attention. Moving between gentle and demanding, he slipped the nightgown back onto her frame, newly washed in harbor. Anna smelled the sea salt sticking to her skin as the man whispered clear instructions: step lightly but quickly back to your room, hang the nightgown to dry, mend the tears come morning—say nothing, recall little.

 

She would.

 

Anna did as instructed. She crept away from the docks, back past the bucket and the field of rotting fruit. Through the heavy door and back up the stairs, past the room where Hewlett still slept. She crawled into bed just as the first light hit her window, indicating that the rest of Setauket would soon come alive.

 

Anna, however, slept like the dead. When she did wake it would be to a naked body and muddied feet, her muscles sore in places unmentionable. She wouldn’t think much of it. Anna would go about her day—normal, smiling, until night fell and she could again dream of drowning. Wait for the water saturating her lungs.

 

Wait for the _tap, tap, tap_.

 

Wait for the crow.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

“Ah. It’s fairly obvious I’ve never done this before, isn’t it?”

“Obvious. No, not at all.”

Anna gave a light laugh as she took the shirt from Hewlett. It was still pretty soaked - he hadn’t wrung it out properly - but she wouldn’t batter his pride too much this morning. Snapping it out she threw it back over the line, carefully pinning it in place.

“See? If you don’t straighten it, it will wrinkle.”

“And we wouldn’t want that,” he murmured, daring to run a hand down Anna’s arm. Her own sleeve was horribly creased.

He meant it as a kind joke of course, but the simple acknowledgement sent something hot churning in Anna’s stomach. She normally took great pride in her appearance, though she’d woken this morning feeling heady… drowsy… achy and sporting a surprising pair of muddied feet. There’d only been just enough time to wash and throw on yesterday’s gown, tripping out the door to start on her chores. First and foremost had been mending her nightgown. When had it torn? Perhaps there was a rusting nail on her bed, mischievously catching against the fabric… No matter. It wasn’t anything to dwell on, certainly. Nor the fact that her nightgown was also stiff with salt, sporting grass stains along the hem and a tiny branch caught in the collar. That was fine too. Something within Anna told her it was fine. She’d just washed it with the other linens. She’d had an off night was all.

… although, a part of Anna acknowledged that her nights had been ‘off’ for quite some time now.

Hewlett cleared his throat, startling her. Anna realized she’d been staring at said nightgown, drawing Hewlett’s gaze as well, and for one sickening moment she thought he realized… something. But then his expression changed, shifting into lidded eyes and a raspberry blush. He was only a man, intimidated by a woman’s intimates.

Anna smiled.

He was only a man.

“It’s no surprise you wouldn’t know this,” she said softly, kindly. “How many men bother with laundry?”

Hewlett let out a dry chuckle. He valiantly tried to snap out a pair of pants. “None, so far as I know. Without you we’d all be lost, certainly.”

“Women, or me personally?”

It was flirty, more than Anna usually dared, but for all her feelings of unease she also felt bold. Assured. Like she’d done this before and already knew the dance. Anna glided closer to Hewlett, paralleling their bodies, the only thing separating them now was a line and a dripping wet cloth.

“ _Good morning!_ ”

And a voice.

Anna paled at the same time Hewlett scowled, the two of them turning to find Simcoe striding towards them, his Ranger’s uniform glinting in the early sun. For reasons she couldn’t justify, Anna thought that it should be mudded - like her nightgown, like her feet - and the cleanliness of his appearance threw her even more than his knowing smile.

Simcoe hid something large behind his back.

“Beautiful day, isn’t it? What tepid weather we’re having, particularly for this time of year. What luck. It’s the perfect temperature for communing beneath the stars.” His eyes raked over Anna and she felt a painful, answering throb between her legs.

Hewlett noticed none of it. “You’ll have to wait a few more hours for stars I’m afraid,” he said, turning back to their laundry. “Either that, or your senses are addled. Perhaps you need more sleep.”

“Yes. Perhaps.” Simcoe’s smile didn’t waver. “Sadly, some of us have true work to attend to.”

If Hewlett received the jab he didn’t answer it.

“Though not all work is a chore. I’m quite pleased to go about this errand. Mrs. Strong? I have a gift for you.”

Anna hadn’t budged since Simcoe approached, but now she jumped, her body running through a ragged shiver; her hands landing up around her mouth. She didn’t know why a ‘gift’ scared her so. All she could do was school her features before Hewlett looked once more.

He seemed pleased with her pale cheeks. “The lady wants nothing from you,” he said. Smug.

“Well, perhaps we can let the lady herself decide.”

From behind him Simcoe pulled a cage, so large Anna wondered how he could have kept it hidden. The bars were a thin, brittle, beautiful gold, arching up to a point that rested in his palm. The bottom wasn’t lined with anything so common as brown paper or straw, but rather a layer of lush, vibrant leaves. They were greener than anything growing this time of year. None of them curled and none of their edges were brown.

Anna was so focused on the cage itself that it took her a moment to notice the thing within it. A bird. A _crow_. Poised at the front with one foot hooked around a bar. It stared at her, unblinking and just a little too intelligent.

“It’s not fighting.”

She drew in a breath, surprised by her own words, but Anna knew them to be true. The crow was compliant in its cage, seemingly unconcerned that a man had trapped it - that it could no longer _fly_. Anna reached for the bird without conscious thought. She didn’t hear Hewlett’s grunt of concern, nor see Simcoe’s smile turn twisted and sharp.

“Indeed,” he agreed. “Pretty things… they know when they’re caught, and they cease striving for freedom. Here you are, Mrs. Strong. Yes, heavy isn’t it? Might I suggest you keep him by your bed? He’ll be such a good companion during Setauket’s colder nights.”

“Yes,” Anna whispered, her voice hardly her own.

Simcoe leaned down, eyes wide and dilated. He gazed upon Anna as one does a worthless, yet oddly entertaining child. His pale hands nudged her towards the house. “Go place him now.”

“Yes,” she said again and began the trudge up the hill. Anna didn’t hear Hewlett’s call - his voice tinged with true fear now. It was Simcoe’s voice that followed her through the grass, winding up her legs and piercing through to her heart:

“ _I’ll see you tonight_.”

“Tonight,” Anna whispered. One finger slipped between the cage’s bars and the crow came to her, nudging its feathered head against her skin, welcoming her.

When the crow bit, it drew a seas’ worth of blood.


End file.
